


Coming Headlong Here

by voleuse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-02
Updated: 2009-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Old stone, among nettles fallen, near.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Headlong Here

**Author's Note:**

> Vague spoilers through 5.01. Title and summary adapted from Gillian Allnutt's _Sojourner_.

The hellhounds slammed against the door, crashing through it, and Bela didn't see them at first, the noise was so loud as to blind her. She stumbled back, blinking, and then they were on her, eyes red, teeth ripping.

She wondered who would find her body, whether they would scream, and then the pain overtook everything else, and she did a fair amount of screaming herself.

*

 

Hell was not what she expected. There was supposed to be fire, and agony, and regret. Instead, it was her, alone, with cool concrete rough beneath her bare feet, and silence punctuated by a drip of water in the distance. _This isn't so bad_, she thought to herself. _It's a bit soothing, really._

After ten minutes, she was bored. After ten days, boredom was a fond memory.

The echoes were the worst, bounding back too quickly, lying to her about walls closing in, ceiling slowly falling. When she held her arms out and up, however, the chamber yawned wide. No matter how far she walked, or how high she jumped, all she found was air. She wasn't thirsty, but the dripping water taunted her with the possibility of something, anything else.

She crouched against the gritty floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and told herself she'd go mad when it was convenient.

*

 

The darkness dissolved slowly. Bela almost didn't notice, so accustomed she had grown to squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn't like dawn, that warm bath of sunlight, but instead like a candle's flame, burning away the edges of night. It was a flicker in front of her, cool and white and wavering.

She held her breath, and a door coalesced before her, like blood pooling bright.

Bela laughed under her breath, thought of the labyrinth, of _The Matrix_, and all those things she used to watch while eating popcorn and drinking wine. Maybe she was mad now, before she deemed herself ready.

The door bled outward, into walls lined with cobwebs and cracks, into cracked linoleum beyond, into walls and steps and sunlight, if she leaned forward to peer through the glass. She thought to recoil, like a vampire or a wyrm. She thought it was a trap, and she pulled her hands back, tucked them behind her waist like a good little girl.

There were many things she deserved for her life, she thought, but hope wasn't one of them.

She had stopped counting days long ago, but much time passed before she trusted the door as real. Finally, however, she couldn't stand the endless, taunting wait. She couldn't stand being the demarcation between the shadows and the sunlight, the cavern and the door.

She took a deep breath and strode forward. She pulled the door open, and didn't wince as it started to creak.

"You shouldn't," a voice rung out, and Bela winced. She released the door handle and stepped back, before realizing the voice had come from behind her.

"Shouldn't leave?" she managed to croak, her throat dry from such a long silence.

"Not that way." A woman emerged from the shadows, and the red of her hair burned Bela's eyes. "It goes deeper."

"Ah." Bela looked back at the door, couldn't help a twinge of disappointment. "Are you here to torture me, then?"

The woman shook her head. "I'm here to free you."

"From hell?" Bela laughed.

The woman didn't smile. "Yes."

Bela's laughter twisted in her throat, and the last of it echoed, still wrongly, into the dark. "Oh," she said, finally. "Might I ask why?"

"The prophet Chuck foretold your coming," the woman said. "The coming battle requires you."

"That," Bela replied, "did not make much sense at all."

"Time to go," the woman said, and she reached out and gripped Bela's shoulder, the heat of her fingers burning through cloth, burning against skin, burning--

Bela screamed until she woke, and she was alive again.


End file.
